Betrayal
by whitefire
Summary: Sydney gets his turn with Jarod. It always was a choice between Jarod and Miss Parker...


_I got soul but I'm not a soldier._ – The Killers

His return was inevitable, but I never saw it coming. Miss Parker dragged him fighting into my office. His return was inevitable, but I never realized he'd be mine again. Jarod sat opposite me: regarding me, judging me. Does he know how I will fail him? It's for his own good – and hers. At least that's what I can comfort myself with.

I lean forward in my chair, brushing my lips with a finger from the hand I lean against. A thinking pose. What the hell, it's all a lie anyway.

Now the Centre forces me to choose between the two I consider to be my children. Jarod's freedom or Miss Parker's. I know which one would better cope with the imprisonment, but confessing this to Jarod would never solve anything. I'm certain he would try to devise a way of mutual freedom. But it's more than her sake that I am jealously concerned for.

_He belongs here_. I've told myself that to the point of justifying its truth. Have I convinced myself of the rationale behind it? My best hope for staying human is to never truly believe it. But fate has asked me to act in that way.

"Sydney," Jarod speaks. His voice is edged with pain and accusation. It is a hidden question of my allegiance.

I can only stare back. I could never meet his moral challenge.

I turn my gaze to the papers on my desk. The formality of them strengthens my resolve.

"Miss Parker, you're free to leave. For good."

She nodded apprehensively, glancing at Jarod. An internal debate warred within her. She had promised before that given the choice she would see Jarod locked up to free herself. Her eyes narrowed on me. I returned the gaze impassively, allowing her to be the complete judge of her next move. She glanced again at Jarod before turning heel to walk out of my office.

Jarod closed his eyes when the door closed.

"Jarod," it came out as a harsh whisper. I cleared my throat. "Jarod, we must begin a process of retraining you to accept my directions… and the authority of the Centre." The last part was strained.

"We need you here, Jarod. You are the prized problem solver of the Centre. Your work has helped countless people."

Jarod flinched. "Even you don't believe that, Sydney," he spoke in a guttural voice.

"I know you feel the blame for many sims we've done. These uses were not your fault, Jarod."

"I do not intent on making the same mistake twice."

"I have been promised your work will only be used in a positive manner."

Jarod did not grace the sentence with a reaction. He knows that there is no way I could ever guarantee that promise. But he knows I will try.

"I am asking for your cooperation, Jarod. Will I have it?"

He folded his arms across his chest. _No way in hell_, was his clear response.

Then through hell we must go. One time I was his father, but this time I chose Miss Parker's freedom.

I dropped my voice into a flat monotone: "As the one person overseeing your training and development over the past thirty years, and being a fully trained psychiatrist, the Centre choose me to reeducate you. There are ways of returning you to the more docile state in which you lived your life here. I trained you well, Jarod. To resist mind control, hypnotherapy, torture, and mental and physical stress. Very well indeed. But as any programmer, I left backdoors should the need come. And I believe it has."

Jarod sat in quiet horror. He had no reason to doubt me save for how he believed I would act to him. _But this time I chose Miss Parker_. I am not Catherine: I know I cannot save them all.

"Do you trust me, Jarod?" I asked, catching him off guard.

He regarded me. He was looking for a hope, something to tell him I was on his side. I betrayed him again by feeding him some hope. It would make my task easier.

I mouthed the word refuge.

He looked me in the eye. He wanted to believe, and managed to make himself do so.

He nodded, ever honest with me.

"Then your trust will make this easier," I spoke, subtly honest in return.

"Lie down on my couch," I instructed him.

He rose obediently out of the chair and moved back to rest on the leather couch, a favorite of Miss Parker's. I approached him, pulling the chair up next to him. Sitting, I took hold of his hand.

"Relax, Jarod. I'm going to take you into a deep state of consciousness as I count backwards from 10. Nine, you feel your legs relax, eight, this feeling of utter relaxation travels up your body, seven your arms are relaxed, six your neck and shoulders relaxed, five your face, your head, your whole body relaxed."

I took him into a deep state of hypnosis. Only his trust in me allowed him to let me in.

"Jarod, when you wake you will feel complete trust towards me. Unhesitating belief in my actions and words. You will feel safe in the knowledge that I will never betray you and that I never have betrayed you. You will know the people in the Centre responsible for twisting your sims are gone. It cleanses you of your guilt to know that you are working here to fix those problems. Only in the Centre can you rectify these mistakes. You slowly become more aware of yourself, waking from the deep state of meditation until you are fully awake."

Jarod's eyes opened to focus on me. His brow furrowed. He lowered his gaze, and by that submissive gesture I could tell the Centre had won. And all Lyle could propose was torture. But I suppose this is my own unique form.

"Do you feel ready to begin a simulation today, Jarod?"

He answered in a voice reminiscent of the innocence he'd lost in the weeks before he ran away: "Yes."


End file.
